Elder Scrolls Journey to the east
by aspie3000
Summary: It has been eight hundred years since the events of Skyrim and Dragons have conquered the known world. This story follows six slaves as they arrive in the distant land of Akavir and fulfill their destiny to defeat a reincarnated Alduin and his dragon cult.


**Elder Scrolls: Journey to the East**

**Chapter 1: It always starts with a Prisoner**

"Hey you; wake up!" commanded a voice through the lower dungeons of the Bruniik Dur, a slave ship headed to a foreign but all too familiar land to the prisoners below. Ulag Maal looked down at the lifeless Breton that lied before him. He seemed fragile to the naked eye, with soft delicate features, a slender graceful physique, long dirty blonde hair, slightly pointed ears carried over from his elven lineage, and an age that couldn't be a day over twenty. And yet the Orc sensed something in him, something wild, untamed, and even frightening. Not that Ulag Maal feared anything, but this human was an opponent to strike fear in the hearts of lesser men to be sure.

The unconscious Breton tossed, turned, and groaned upon hearing the bestial Orcish voice but still didn't fully awaken from his slumber. He suffered from some sort of terrible nightmare and sweated like a pig. "Come on kid, snap out of it!" Ulag said again before shaking the Breton violently. This kid was in trouble for sure; Ulag had heard stories of how hard the trip to Akavir was on the poorly kept slaves in the lower dungeons of the slave ships, but to experience it first hand was something indeed. They locked up to ten prisoners at a time in one cell, fed them the bare minimum amount of food, let the disease carrying rats run rampant, and provided no medical aid to anyone who was suffering. The trip was truly hell on earth.

"You're wasting your time Orc," said a female voice with an Altmer accent from the corner of the room; "he's going to die in here like the others. Only the strong survive the trip to Akavir; that's the way it's meant to be. The dragons want only the best mortal specimens to slave in their mines, and unfortunately for this pampered little mongrel, he just doesn't make the cut." The voice came from a female high elf named Skuld. She seemed completely unaffected by the conditions of the ship and completely unfazed when the people in dungeon across from her died horrible deaths from a flesh eating disease.

"Come on human!" said the Ulag ignoring the woman; "you can do this! Just open your eyes!" He wasn't about to give up on this kid yet. He knew a warrior when he saw one and this kid had the heart of a warrior.

"I'm telling you," said Skuld slightly annoyed that the overgrown goblin wasn't listening to her, "he's too weak. Just look at him, all delicate and pretty. He's never gone a day without food or a warm bed. He was born with a silver spoon in hand and now dies on an Akaviri ship as a slave. It's wonderfully ironic, poetic really." She felt no shame in her secret wish that the Breton would meet his end on this ship. She hated people who never had to fight for what they got, and she could tell just by looking at him that he was born into a better deal than most.

"Enough!" responded another voice in a distinct Khajiit accent. It was the voice of Jo'Rak, a Khajiit that was an apprentice to the Mane himself, and among the teachings of his master were the respect for the living and the dead. He was taught that everything had worth, and the fact that an Altmer, a member of the race had treated his people as second class citizens in the Aldmeri Dominion, was devaluing a life because she deemed it weak offended him to no end. "Ever since we got here you've done nothing but disrespect the dead and the living alike! Jo'Rak knows not what chip lies on your shoulder or what you're trying to prove with your callousness but Jo'Rak will not tolerate it for much longer!" he threatened.

"I live in fear cat," responded the Altmer woman amused that such a short little creature thought it had a chance against her. "You will show some reverence for your fellow life or so help me gods Jo'Rak will-!" fumed the Kajiit losing his temper at the arrogance of the heartless Altmer. "Calm down Jo'Rak," interrupted an older wiser sounding Kajiit voice, it was the voice of the Mane; "remember what I told you about violence."

"…Yes my Mane," responded Jo'Rak calming down and feeling ashamed of falling short of his master's teachings once again; "violence should only be used when every other option has been exhausted." "Very good," responded the Mane glad that his apprentice understood where he had fallen and had made an effort to pick himself back up; "attacking someone without provocation only leads to unnecessary pain and suffering."

"You'll do well to listen to your leader Jo'Rak; I could kill you just by blinking," responded Skuld in threatening uneasy tone; "besides I was only speaking the truth. The people of High Rock aren't exactly known for their courage. This Breton has probably never tasted combat in his entire life."

"You're wrong lady," said the Orc; "there's something different about this one. He's a fighter; I can smell it." "Delude yourself if you must," started the Altmer shrugging her shoulders and giving up on convincing the stubborn Orc of his folly, "but don't be surprised when you come out of this whole ordeal dissap-."

"Lady," came a weak sounding voice from the Breton shocking everyone; "I think I speak for all of us here when I say that you need to learn when to shut the hell up." The Breton pulled himself to his feet, brushed himself off and looked forward with a confident smile. "Heh!" said the Orc looking back at the Altmer woman with a triumphant expression, "I told you he'd make it." Skuld was completely shocked at the Breton's recovery but wouldn't give the Orc the satisfaction of knowing it. She just turned her head and humphed.

The first person that the Breton noticed as he looked around the room was the Orc that roused him from his sleep. He was huge; about as big as an Orc could get. He had two long sharp canines protruding from beneath his lower lip and black hair that was worn in a ponytail. He also had a strange red tattoo on his face of two streaks that started at the ends of the top of the head, curved down to the eyes, and then curved back to the ends of his jaw. His eyes were different colors as well with the right eye being brown and the left eye being milky white.

The Breton then noticed the two Khajiit, one relatively young, and one very old. The younger one was desert colored and had very long ears with a row of piercings going through them. He also had two small brown mane-like mutton chops coming down his face giving him the appearance of young lion with very long ears. He seemed to be smaller in stature in comparison to normal Khajiit making the Breton wonder just how young he was.

The older Khajiit had noble greyish fur, short ears, and a giant artificial mane made from the manes of other Khajiit. His eyes were completely milky white leading the Breton to believe that he was probably blind. He exuded an ageless wisdom that commanded the respect of everyone in the room save perhaps the Altmer.

The fourth person in the room that the Breton noticed was the attractive Altmer woman with light golden skin, black lips, long wild dark red hair, and equally wild eyes sitting in a corner. There was an air about her that seemed ancient but young, and slightly evil.

Finally, the Breton noticed two people sitting in the shadows. One was a male Nord with long blonde hair, light blue eyes, and a tall muscular stature. He was clean shaven and had a brooding look about him. Sitting beside the Nord was a female human whose race the Breton couldn't identify. She was about the height of a female Breton, had long straight black hair, almond shaped eyes, and a yellowish tan tint to her skin. When she caught the Breton staring at her she smiled a little. The Breton smiled back before getting a "back off" glare from the Nord.

"Well, I see that we've got quite the crowd here," said the Breton upon noticing all of his cellmates; "an Orc, some Khajiit, a Nord, a… girl, and a golden were cow. So can anyone tell me where we are and where we're going?" "I think that it should be obvious to anyone with half a brain where we are," responded the Altmer woman angry about the insult; "or haven't you noticed the bars and the continuous rocking of the ship?" "I wasn't asking you Succubus," responded the Breton not taking a liking to the frigid Skuld.

"Do not mind her," said Jo'Rak; "she is not very sociable on account of her being a heartless she-demon. My name for your benefit is Jo'Rak the apprentice of the Mane S'Baad. Right now we are on a slave ship to the continent of Akavir. I suspect that we will be headed to the mines of Ka' Po' Tun shortly." "Really?" said the Breton with a pleased smile; "that's great! That means the plan is working."

"Plan?" said the Ulag surprised but reassured in the fact that the Breton was more than he seemed; "you wanted to be on this ship?" "Yep," responded the Breton; "I'm a member of the Blades, a group of dragon slayers and the only rebel faction against Tosh Raka's dragon cult. Right now I'm on a mission to investigate the rumor of an ancient Akaviri power lying within the mines of Diyu; hopefully something that'll be useful to us against the dragons. I admit though, I've been to a lot better places than this ship. The catering here is terrible; the waiters are lazy, the exterminators suck, oh and look at that! There's two dead rotting Argonians in the room across from ours."

"Very funny," said Skuld annoyed. "I was being serious," responded the Breton with a slightly puzzled look on his face. "So I'll take it that you know a way out of the mine?" asked the Orc hopefully; "perhaps one that involves violence?" "Naturally," responded the Breton. "Can you also guarantee safety for the Mane?" asked Jo'Rak. "Of course," responded the Breton; "just stick with me and we'll all come out of this hellhole in one piece. Then you can all come with me and take refuge in the blade headquarters of Ka' Po' Tun. We're always looking for new dragon hunters."

"Please," broke in the Altmer woman; "do you know anything about the place of which you speak? Diyu is guarded to the teeth by Dragons, Tsaesci, Ka' Po' Tun, Monkey men, and who knows what else. Do you really think that a puny insignificant human, an Orc, a vertically challenged cat man, and his blind grandpa have a chance at escape? Whole slave revolts have tried to take down the security and failed."

The Breton gave a confident smile; "then we go through the deep mines moo cow." "The deep mines!" responded the Altmer shocked at such stupidity; "you're an even bigger fool than I thought! Those caverns go on for months! You'll likely die of thirst before you ever even smell the scent of fresh air!"

"Yes, but a little birdie told me about a shortcut to the surface," responded the Breton. "How could you possibly-," started the Altmer. "Because I'm a member of the blades and have access to their archives. There's some old blade ruins located somewhere in the deep mines. It's unknown to even the dragons. The ancient blades could come and go from these ruins as they pleased right under the fire breather's notice, and so can we. It's also the place where the Akaviri power is believed to be located. If we escape through there we can kill two birds with one stone."

"Where does the violence come in?" asked the Orc, his natural born bloodlust increasing at the sound of the Breton's plan. "The temple will be guarded by ancient blades that have cursed themselves with undeath to protect the ruins. They're creatures called the Jikininki, basically the Akaviri drauger. On top of that, there may be traps, monsters, and who knows what else down there. We'll have to fight our way through them in order to get out," responded the Breton.

"Why is nothing ever as simple as it sounds," said Jo'Rak shaking his head. "I like it!" said the Orc; "it finally gives me a chance to take the edge off and kill something, even if it isn't an Akavir." "And how do you plan on accomplishing all this without weapons or armor?" asked Skuld taking pleasure in finding a flaw in the Breton's plan; "or did you forget that little detail simpleton?"

The Breton shot a surprisingly chilling glare at the Altmer woman. It was a glare that looked like it came from a stone cold killer; "you are really starting to make me mad with your attitude woman. Be careful what you say to me or you might find yourself one day missing your head! There's a giant armory in the temple filled with all kinds of weapons and armor. All we have to do is get there; I just happen to know some magic so getting to our destination shouldn't be impossible."

The Altmer got up and looked into the Breton's eyes returning the cold blooded glare with one of her own; "fair enough human, but if you ever threaten me again I'll skin you alive." The Breton smirked completely unafraid of the elvin woman; "just try it! Come on. Let's see how fast an elf hits the ground when it dies!"

"Stop this," interrupted the Mane drawing everyone's attention to him; "You waste energy fighting each other that could be used against the Akavir! Do you have any idea why you're all here? It is not by happenstance that warriors of your caliber have all gathered in one place, for one single purpose! The Scrolls have foretold it, and I am honored to live to see it come to pass. You are the six champions of Akavir." "What is this old fool talking about?" said the Altmer woman. "The 'old fool' is talking about the reason we're all here witch!" shot Jo'Rak; "he has seen the future through an Elder Scroll, though it cost him his sight." The Altmer stopped and smiled intrigued; "Go on old man. What did you see in your vision?"

The Mane motioned for everyone to gather around him and they did as he told his story; "first I saw the events of the past unfold, from the death of Alduin to the rise of Tosh Raka. I saw war in the fabled mists of Sovngarde. On one side lied the world eater, that foul beast with a hunger to swallow all that is; on the other lied the heroes of the Nordic people from times past and the fabled Dovahkiin with them. I saw the Dovahkiin shout at Alduin with a voice like thunder forcing the vile dragon to experience that which was alien to him and his kind, mortality. Alduin fell to the earth like lightning and when he hit the ground the Dovahkiin swung mighty Wuuthrad, the axe belonging to Ysgramor before him, forcing Alduin to breathe his last. And so it was as it was meant to be, Alduin was vanquished and a new legend was born, the legend of the dragonborn. If the story had ended there however, we wouldn't be in the situation we are now."

The Nord in the corner's eyes turned toward the Mane. The mention of Alduin had caught his attention. "So what happened?" asked Skuld; "I don't have the patience to listen to you prattle on about a dead legend." "If you would shut up and listen D'Saad would tell you harpy! Why is it that you're so eager to hear about this anyways? I sense deceit in you," shot Jo'Rak. "Do not worry about her Jo'Rak; inside her burns a lust for power. Her motives now are less than pure, but she has a destiny along with you," replied the Mane D'Saad. He then turned to Skuld; "you will find what you seek in Akavir, but you will find that it isn't enough," Skuld's eyes widened and then narrowed before she turned away in contempt.

"To answer the elf's initial question, Alduin's death wasn't as permanent as the legends would have you believe. You see, Alduin's creator Akatosh had never imagined a situation in which his greatest creation would perish and thus had not prepared for him a spirit home. Alduin's spirit was cursed to roam Mundus, Aetherius, Oblivion, and beyond in search of one that was enough like him to possess. He found what he was looking for in Tosh Raka; leader of the Ka' Po' Tun and the only one of his kind to successfully transform into a dragon. Tosh Raka was a creature with large ambitions and now had the power to match them. His first target was the nation of Tsaesci, a nation controlled by large golden snake men the natural born enemies of the Ka' Po' Tun. The war didn't last very long, as Tosh Raka's forces were not only composed of tiger men, but also of wyvern's that had returned to Akavir upon sensing Alduin's return. The Ka' Po' Tun obliterated the Tsaesci and forced their emperor Daiki Yamamoto to kiss Tosh Raka's feet in order to spare his people. Raka Consumed Daiki body and soul and let out a shout that was heard all over Akavir. With that shout the ancient dragons that lied dormant in the continent were resurrected. From wyvern, to Ryu, to Long, all species of dragons arose from their slumber and took the land of Akavir as their own. Whatever deities that the Akavir may have worshipped before then vanished to the cult of the dragons, and Tosh Raka, Alduin, reigned supreme." continued the Mane with his story.

"And next comes the conquest of Tamriel," said the Breton with contempt for the dragons. "Yes," said the Mane; "Tosh Raka was not satisfied with just conquering Akavir. As a mortal, he had always hated Tamriel, but as a dragon that hatred increased tenfold. The soul of Alduin deep within Tosh Raka burned with a lust for revenge against the land that fell him twice and with Tamriel in a weakened state from the second Great War, the time was perfect for him to strike. That day when the dragons conquered Tamriel was known as the baptism by fire. I don't know who was unluckier, the ones who died or the ones who survived. Those who lived through the ordeal were divided into two classes, those who served as the dragon's ministers and soldiers and those who didn't. Those who refused to serve and worship the dragons were kept as slaves. As you six already know, some slaves are shipped off to the most dreaded work camp in all of Mundus, Diyu."

"Great," said Ulag Maal with a bloodthirsty glare in his eyes, "now we know what we're up against. My only question is how do we kill Tosh Raka? And how do we do it in the most painful way possible?!" "There is no way," broke in the Nord in the corner drawing everyone's attention to him; "if what you say is true and Alduin has returned, only a dragonborn can stop him, and as you know the last dragonborn died by Tosh Raka's hand in the baptism by fire. If the world eater has returned than we're all doomed." The Nords voice was depressing and monotone with a heavy Nord accent reminding everyone in the room of a dark winter.

"What do you know," said the Breton; "he speaks, and already I want to kill myself. I'm not giving up just because the last sure way to end the dragon's life failed miserably at his destiny. Tosh Raka lives, breathes, and bleeds like the rest of us. And if he breathes, he can die. The only question is how to do it." "I am only speaking the truth Breton, Alduin's hunger and rage cannot be stopped by any of us. It is futile to try," responded the Nord. "The Breton's right," said Ulag Maal; "I've lost too much to the dragons and Akavir to just give up like a coward. There is a way to kill Raka, and on the graves of my parents and wives, I'll find it!"

"I will also stand up and fight," said Jo'Rak; "I find that freedom and equality are two of the few things worth fighting for. These dragons cannot be allowed to continue their holocaust and oppress all of the races that they believe below them." "It's good that you three feel that way," said the Mane; "because everyone in this cell save me is ordained by destiny as the only ones to be able to stop Alduin. You are the last hope of Akavir, Tamriel, and all of Mundus whether you believe it or not. How you are to accomplish this, I do not know, but the scrolls have foretold it and it shall be so."

"Forgive me if I do not share your optimism Mane," said the Nord respectfully; "I do not trust the scrolls. They told us last time that the dragonborn was to vanquish Alduin forever and now they tell us that six nobodies are to raise arms against him again. How many times must the world eater die and be resurrected before we realize that it's all futile?"

"As many times as it takes Nord," responded the Breton in a dead serious tone; "now since we're all going to be working together I think that we should introduce ourselves. My name is Cailean, I'm a Reachman from Skyrim and member of the blades. As you know, my people have all but been wiped out by the Dragons for refusing to worship them. I fight the dragons because I want to make the world a better place for mankind and my children if I ever have any."

"Skuld," said the Altmer surprising everyone, "my name is Skuld. I'm a sorceress from the Summerset Isles. That's all I'm really going to tell you." The Orc was the next to speak, "my name is Ulag Maal; before I came here I was one of the greatest warriors in Orsinium. I've killed lots of dragons and decorated my shack in the wilderness with their bones. Dragons ended the lives of my entire family, so I've dedicated most of my life to ending theirs."

"I've already introduced myself but I shall do it again," said the Kajiit; "I am Jo'Rak, follower and protector of the Mane D'Saad. I came to this ship to meet the other's chosen by the scrolls. I can say for a fact that I am surprised at what I found but in a good way. The Mane has taught me how to look into the eyes of a person and know their worth and each of you has the fire of a hero burning in your eyes, even Skuld." Skuld was taken aback by Jo'Rak's statement but fell silent.

"My name is Bjorn Long-Winter," said the Nord before turning to the woman of unknown race beside him; "this is my sister Aiku Long-Winter. As you can see we don't have the same parents but we were raised together by the Greybeards on High Hrothgar. She is Akaviri born with roots in the nation of Tsaesci. Forgive her for not speaking but her skill with the voice is great and she could kill us all with a whisper." Aiku smiled at everyone a warm innocent smile.

"Now that everyone has grown acquainted, I can breathe my last knowing that Nirn has hope. I will not survive the mines of Diyu, but all of you will. I just leave you all with this last warning. Do not let your demons get the best of you. Whether it be pride, greed, vengeance, or lust it will stray you from the path of victory," said D'Saad.

"We won't my Mane," said Jo'Rak with indignation, "I promise not to stray." "Do not make promises you can't keep Jo'Rak. My warning was especially for you," replied to Mane. Jo'Rak sat back and thought about what the Mane had said disturbed. They all did as the ship moved further and further toward its destination.


End file.
